


A Primer on Telemark

by antigrav_vector



Series: A Series of Mishaps [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Comic), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Noir, Nick Fury: Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Action, Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - World War II, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Hurt Steve, Hurt Tony, Hurt/Comfort, I researched the hell out of this, M/M, Mild Angst, Mild Gore, Mission Fic, Politics, Power Dynamics, Resolved Sexual Tension, Secrets, Torture, Unsatisfied Sexual Tension, basically everyone's a BAMF, bottom!tony, fairly liberal use of profanity, historical fiction kinda, lots of educational footnotes, mild whump, top!steve, tw: gore, tw: torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-03-05 04:32:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3105989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antigrav_vector/pseuds/antigrav_vector
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Picks up just under a year after the events of <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1380871">Of Bartending</a>, and follows our erstwhile heroes though another mission. HYDRA may or may not be up to their usual nefarious tricks...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> With thanks to my lovely beta reader, MusicalLuna, without whom this would have been rather more of a mess than it turned out to be.
> 
> Please don't disregard the footnotes. They're meant to help the narrative along, I promise, and I fought with HTML for a couple of hours to get them to work so that they link back to the text.
> 
> This wound up being a combination historical AU/Marvel Noir AU/MCU AU by virtue of my borrowing characters from various 'verses, and twisting parts of history around to suit my own purposes. It's not what I'd call historically accurate, but I tried to make sure I didn't break any of the timelines involved too badly. This sequel picks up just under a year after the first fic, and can be read as a standalone work, but it is intended to continue to build on the events and character development of the previous fic.
> 
> Also: please note that there are torture scenes and gore. They're not super graphic or explicit, but if that's at all triggery, you may want to proceed with caution.
> 
> The E rating is for the last chapter. All the rest is work safe.

–------------------------  
Prologue  
–------------------------

The ordeal had started with a predawn parachute jump from a C82 cargo plane, flown over the town of Caen[1] at about 0500. At this hour, the darkness was nearly complete, broken occasionally by pinpricks of light throughout the town and scattered through the nearby countryside.

The battle to take the town back from the Germans had been raging for nearly a week already, and the landscape showed it; though much was hidden by the night, the ruins of bombed out buildings and destroyed bridges were obvious to someone who cared to look. Many of them were dimly lit by campfires used by sentries and guard posts.

Steve eyed the town as he prepared to leap from the plane. He'd be aiming for a landing zone east of the town. That was where the fighting was lightest. Not that that was saying much.

The fighting had finally broken out just over 10 months ago, in mid-February, when Red Skull had refused to lift the blockade he'd tried to catch Steve in. The situation had rapidly progressed from irritation to anger , then to war when a few unwise insults had been said within earshot of the wrong diplomats.

It was kind of stupid, really.

The arrogance of the Germanic Empire in blockading all of Scandinavia to find one man, an American not affiliated with any of them, at that, had properly grated on pretty much everyone’s nerves. That they had refused to lift the blockade once it was clear he was no longer _in_ Scandinavia had brought the situation to a tense stand-off. And then the Finnish ambassadors had been poked fun at by several highly ranked Germans -- during a series of negotiations to lift the blockade, no less -- and the situation had rapidly devolved, spinning out of control.

Picking out the area around his landing zone, he set his thoughts aside. It was time. The plane, flown by Agent Coulson, slowed and dipped lower to the ground as they made the final approach, the engine noise changing, shifting from the higher drone of cruising flight to the lower, louder one used at low altitudes and during landing approaches. The sound reminiscent, as always, of the sound of downshifting in an automobile.

Steve smiled crookedly. Now that he and Tony were more or less a sure thing, he’d started picking up all sorts of tidbits of knowledge on things mechanical. Such as the fact that what had sounded like a gear shift to him from the start was pretty much identical in car and plane[2] .

"See you in a few days, Captain," he called, raising his voice to carry over the sound of the plane's engines. The plane's side door slid open, its rattling rendered inaudible by the ambient noise. A blast of nearly frozen air followed, making his eyes water until he could pull his goggles into place and hitting the back of his throat like an icy knife .

Before the Serum this kind of action would have knocked him flat and had him laid up in bed for a month. The thought brought a smile to his face that was part exhilaration and part feral anticipation.

"You got it," he called back, adrenaline beginning to flood through him. "See you back at base."

It was just over a mile to the church from his designated landing zone, but there would be a lot of obstacles to clear.

Starting with actually _hitting_ the landing zone.

He carefully gauged their approach, watching for the light beside the door to turn green. The instant it shifted, signaling that it was safe to jump, he was in the air, angling himself away from the body of the plane and down.

The combination of chill humid air and the sensation of freefall conspired to very nearly steal his breath away. Steve squinted behind his flying goggles. That was the landing site, right... _there_.

At the last possible moment, he pulled the ripcord on his parachute, doing his best to minimize the risk of being seen. He jerked and swayed in the air as the 'chute slowed his descent abruptly, only barely missing biting his tongue, and moments later he was on the ground.

Steve glanced around warily, forcing down a shiver as the icy cold tried to force its way through the layers of his clothing. Everything seemed clear.

Hastily, he shoved the 'chute back into its pack and secured his shield, temporarily painted a dull mottled brown and olive drab for the sake of _not_ standing out like a sore thumb, over top of it. His usual uniform had also been hidden, covered up by a set of plain khaki trousers and a brown leather bomber jacket and plain off-white scarf. His helmet had been replaced by a standard issue thing that was surprisingly uncomfortable to wear. Usually his missions called for less stealth. Hiding his uniform just felt strange. Dishonest .

Shaking the thoughts off and taking a moment to orient himself, Steve turned in a slow circle, mapping out the immediate area, then compared the features he saw with the map he'd been given. The planned Allied advances were marked, along with strategically important buildings such as the supply depot just to the south of the town. The landing zone he'd been assigned was also on there, not far from the eastern road into town, obscured from most sightlines by a set of farm buildings and a large copse of trees. He'd missed it by about half a kilometer, as it turned out, but he hadn't been seen so Steve decided it didn't matter.

His objective was a church tower to the northeast, where he was supposed to rendezvous with a contact who would have top secret information about HYDRA's new schemes to hand off, so that the information could be smuggled into SHIELD's hands without breaking his cover.

Folding the map and tucking it back into the belt pouch he'd fished it out of, he carefully set out, making obliquely for the edge of town. Thankfully there wasn't much snow on the ground this close to the coast, and he didn't have to worry about leaving tracks as long as he kept to the well-traveled paths. The inner portion of the town was ringed by a medieval wall, which had been co-opted by the defenders for use as sentry posts. It was one of the most hotly contested parts of the town. Unfortunately, his objective lay within sight of that wall.

Along the way, he was forced to backtrack multiple times to avoid the checkpoints that both sides had set up over the course of the fight for the town. The need to control the shipping routes that ran through the town had driven both sides to invest much more in the fighting than they might have for a simple piece of territory.

As a result of the increased security and heightened state of alert, he got surprised by a machine gun nest tucked away in the corner of a ruined building. He'd turned a corner just as the sun was rising, and happened to be blinded by the bright glare at just the wrong moment. He'd been spotted immediately and a burst of HmG[3] fire had rattled loudly. Most of the bullets had pinged off the wall to his left, but two had struck true as he jumped backward toward cover and before he could get his shield in front of him. He came away from the encounter with a graze on his right calf that could be ignored, though it bled sluggishly through the tears the bullet had left in his pants as well as the uniform beneath, and a second bullet lodged in the meat of his left shoulder. He could feel it grind against bone as he moved.

Feeling the blood drip down his arm and the growing pain any movement caused, he grimaced, hissing through his teeth and breathing slowly and carefully in an attempt to control his body's reaction to the wound. He'd have to deal with the bullet soon, despite the risk of infection. He couldn't leave it where it was. Luckily it had missed hitting anything vital. The bone wasn't broken, and he wouldn't bleed out as long as he was paying attention.

An encounter with a half-track[4] a few intersections later, had him silently cursing a blue streak. Already injured, he would have preferred to avoid another confrontation. A variant with mounted machine guns in the bed, it was designed for personnel and light aircraft suppression. If anything, this was even worse than the machine gun nest. Instead of a single gun, there were three, albeit of different calibres and mounted in different places on the chassis. The fire from the vehicle didn't stop, either, once it had spotted him, and he'd have to get past it to reach the church.

The gunner kept firing occasionally at the waist high remnant of brick wall he'd ducked behind, keeping him pinned down for the moment. All he'd had time for was a brief glance at the area around the vehicle, but there was a possibility he could disarm it.

The half-track was positioned with its front facing away from him, putting the entirety of the intersection in the gunner's sights, but it would take him a few precious moments to rotate the turret to face the front of the half-track. His only real chance was to flank it and take advantage of the delay in their ability to target him.

He'd have to make it count. With the injuries he already had, a second chance would likely not be in the cards.

Gingerly shifting forward onto one knee and edging away from his cover as quietly as possible, Steve managed to make his way into the destroyed building to his right without getting shot at. It was so recently burned down that it still glowed ember red in places and the remaining hint of smoke on the air felt like it was trying to choke him, coating his nose and the back of his throat until he could _taste_ it .

Without thinking, he put his hand on a doorframe as he climbed over the timbers blocking it, and came away with a hole on the palm of his glove and a burn on the skin of his right hand to match . He'd grabbed onto just the wrong portion of the upright, and happened to put his hand on the hottest part of the still live embers. It didn't hurt much now, but Steve knew that would change as soon as the adrenaline of being on-mission faded.

He scowled. This was turning out to be a more annoying assignment than he'd predicted.

At least none of the wounds was likely to scar, thanks to the Serum.

Testing the range of motion in his hand, he forced down a frustrated growl. It stung to close his fist, and he didn't dare stop to wrap it here. Forcing himself into motion, he continued picking his way through the building carefully. Hesitating wasn't making his plan any easier to put into action. The half-track's crew had surely figured out by now that he wasn't behind that wall anymore.

His foot broke through a weakened floorboard in the next room, sending him sprawling. He wasn't hurt, though. Well, he admitted to himself, no moreso than he had been before.

Picking himself up and pointedly ignoring the way his clothes were streaked with soot from shoulder to shin, he edged up beside a shattered window. The half-track was still in the same position, but some of the ten troops that had been inside were now poking around where he'd been seen.

Time to move. He wouldn't get a better opportunity.

Shield in front of him, he leapt through the window, ignoring the protests from his shoulder and burned hand. The crash caught everyone's attention, but before they could react, he was leaping up into the bed of the half-track, knocking the remaining troops out cold then disabling the guns as permanently as he could with just his shield.

As he finished, the troops that had been searching for him opened fire. Tucking into a roll, Steve turned tail and ran. It wasn't worth the effort.

Three intersections later, he was fairly sure he'd lost them.

When he finally got to the church, he was slightly scorched around the edges in addition to being bloody. Swallowing down a sigh of relief, he stumbled into the small hall, only just remembering to shut the door behind him, and found it empty. The building was oddly quiet, silent but for the distant sounds of the battle he'd just left behind: the rattling of machine guns, the occasional explosion of a tank round or a mine, the rumbling buzz of aircraft scouting the scene and giving support to their respective ground troops.

Taking the respite for what it was, Steve settled gingerly on one of the pews with a view of all the entryways, and did what he could to deal with his injuries with his limited first aid supplies. Cautious, mindful of the fact that he would make an easy target while he patched himself up, he made sure his weapons were within easy reach.

Long before he'd finished, someone else all but fell through the door with a curse and a loud crash. Steve was immediately on his feet, his pistol in hand and the dressing he'd been applying to his leg forgotten.

The voice was familiar, though, and Steve approached cautiously. "Barton?"

"Nice to see you too, Cap," came the response. "Thought I told you to call me Clint," he added.

He'd managed to get the burn on his hand wrapped but the bullet wound on his shoulder still badly needed attention, so Steve offered him a hand up with his good arm, which was accepted with alacrity. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same," Barton, no, _Clint_ raised an eyebrow at him. "Thought you'd be in London, or New York about this time."

"I was, until last week. Got sent back over. I'm supposed to meet a contact here to pick up intel on HYDRA's movements."

Some part of him was unsurprised when Clint smirked. "That'd be me. But first we need to do something about your shoulder."

–------------------------

It took the better part of half an hour, his knife and Clint's, some judiciously applied water from the plain steel dewar they found in the nave of the church, and a lot of swearing on Clint's part, but eventually the still-bloody bullet dropped to the floor and rolled under a pew. Clint did his best to clean the wound. Steve was glad his belt was leather and sturdy enough to bite down on. It saved him from grinding his teeth or giving them away by yelling.

As it was, he felt exposed and the small sounds he did allow himself to make felt loud as shots in the small church. He'd never have survived this long without the Serum, but that didn't make field surgery any more pleasant. Much less when they had no usable painkillers. The pair of aspirin in his small first aid kit were nowhere near strong enough to use for a wound of this magnitude, and dangerous to boot, with the way it slowed blood clotting.

He felt lightheaded as he panted, probably hyperventilating, forcing his teeth to unclench and letting his belt fall from his mouth as he tried to even out his breathing. Lying where it had fallen when he'd shrugged out of it to give Clint access, his uniform shirt was stuck uncomfortably to his back by the cold sweat that had broken out because of the pain.

"Alright?" Clint was looking at him in concern.

"Close enough," Steve grunted, trying to flex his arm, testing the range of motion and using the other arm to wipe away the perspiration gathered at his temples. "I'll feel it for a week or two, but for now this is the best we can do."

Clint looked dubious, but let it go. "Now what?"

Steve picked up the lone roll of bandages he'd brought with him and handed it to the marksman. "Now you tape it up for me, and give me what I came for."

"Uh-uh, I don't think so," Clint returned. "For one, I'm not going to let you get your ass shot again. You haven't got the supplies to deal with that, and Tony would kill me. Or try to. For another, I'm supposed to follow you to the evac point. Coulson's orders."

Steve gave him a long level look even as he had to concede the point. It was returned in kind. Steve suppressed a sigh. _Right. Sniper. Shoulda known he'd do that._

Bucky wasn't any better.

"Fine," Steve gave in, "but you're taping me up before we continue this, so I don't bleed all over a church and leave Red Skull exactly what he wants in the process, gift wrapped."

Clint made a frustrated noise, but complied. "You're real good at getting yourself into trouble, aren't you, Cap."

It wasn't a question. Not really. "Not like I _wanted_ to get shot," Steve grumbled at him, put out.

Clint snorted. "That's not the way Bucky tells it."

Unfortunately for all involved, though the two had initially gotten along as well as oil and water, once they'd discovered that their assessments of Steve's reckless tendencies agreed, they'd declared a truce and started pranking everyone else instead of one another. Annoyingly for Steve, they'd started swapping stories anytime they met on furlough about what ridiculous new stunts they'd seen him pull with each new mission. They were better informed than _Tony_ , since Steve disliked telling his lover about his injuries. It drove Tony a little bit crazy.

An explosion went off just outside the church's main doors, rattling them in their frames and distracting Steve and Clint from their discussion.

"Well, time to go," the marksman quipped.

Without another word, he vaulted over the pew between himself and the rectory door. Steve hastily grabbed his supplies from the floor and followed, albeit slightly less gracefully, throwing his things into his pack as he ran.

–------------------------

Almost the moment he and Clint were back in London, they were summoned to MI6 headquarters by Director Fury. Coulson had been waiting at Northolt[5] airfield to relay the 'request' as they had disembarked from the small plane they had used to cross the Channel. For once the extraction had been quiet. The agent had done a double take on seeing Steve, obviously injured and still a bit pale, though mostly recovered.

"I thought I gave you instructions to bring him back in one piece, Barton."

"Wasn't my fault," Clint returned, giving Steve an exasperated look. "He got the injuries before I could get to him. Had to patch him up on the spot, and let me tell you, if I never have to do field surgery in the middle of a battlefield again, it will be too soon."

"Wasn't trying to get shot," Steve grumbled again. "And quit complaining. It wasn't your shoulder with a bullet in it."

Coulson's face was as calmly bland as always, but Steve was fairly sure pole-axed surprise and resignation were warring for ascendency behind the mask.

Thankfully, that was the end of the conversation until they reached HQ.

Following Coulson into a familiar conference room, Steve was surprised to see that just about everyone who'd helped retrieve Banner was assembled and obviously waiting for them. Thor was missing, currently occupied with preparations for war in his homeland, as was Dr. Banner, presumably sequestered in a lab somewhere.

"Now that our wayward couriers have arrived," Fury bit out around his customary cigar, unlit for the time being in deference to the close confines of the room, "we can get started."

"With what," Tony wanted to know, interrupting when Fury paused meaningfully. He got an elbow to the ribs from Jarvis for his troubles.

With a degree of smugness, Fury took the folder of intel from Coulson and let it fall to the conference table before him with a loud slap. "We have reason to believe that HYDRA is working on a nuclear weapon."

The room was deathly silent.

Steve broke the moment. "What do you intend to do about it, sir?"

Fury laughed once, the sound harsh. "Put simply, Captain, I intend to send you yahoos to put a stop to it."

 

–------------------------

[1] The Battle of Caen, appropriately adjusted for this verse. I.e., later in the year. In this verse, it takes place between October and December of 1944. It also takes place for basically the same strategic reasons as in our verse: it's a road hub, and the waterways both make it more defensible for the Germans and allow them to ship goods if the roads or railways are blocked. Wikipedia link -- [Battle for Caen](http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_for_Caen). Click here to return to text.

[2] In the WWII era, in our verse, as in this one, planes were powered by engines much like those in cars. Initially, in the case of small fixed-wing fighters the engineers and designers basically copy-pasted the intenal combustion engine from a car into it and played with the intake flows and gear ratios (Wikipedia link -- [aircraft engines](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aircraft_engine)). One of the more commonly used early aircraft engines was made by Rolls-Royce (Wikipedia link -- [Rolls-Royce Merlin](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rolls-Royce_Merlin)), and powered machines such as the infamous British Spitfire. The C-82 cargo plane that Coulson and Steve are using (Wikipedia link -- [Fairchild C-82 Packet](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fairchild_C-82_Packet)) was powered by a more modern -- for the time anyway -- radial piston engine (Wikipedia link -- [radial piston engine](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Radial_engine)). Which is basically a bunch of motorcycle engines arranged in a circle because that distributed the force better and gave more power. Click here to return to text.

[3] Basically just a .50 calibre gun on a tripod. So named because it literally IS heavy to lift, weighing in at over 100 lbs. Wikipedia link -- [HmG](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Heavy_machine_gun). Click here to return to text.

[4] A troop transport with guns, where the back half has tank tracks. Hence, ‘half-track’. Not super common, as far as I know, but pretty damn cool. Wikipedia link -- [M3 Half-track](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/M3_Half-track) . A doodle of Steve's path during this fight is pasted here for your reading convenience. It helped me a lot writing the scene.

[ ](http://tinypic.com?ref=jrwglw)

Click here to return to text.

[5] Background information about Northolt and its role in the War can be found here: Wikipedia link -- [RAF Northolt](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/RAF_Northolt). Click here to return to text.


	2. Chapter 2

–------------------------  
Chapter 1  
–------------------------

"You know, all those ski lessons I had when I was young were intended to be something to brag about at social events," Tony grumbled as he put the final touches on his pack. He would be joining the rest of them on skis. "Not for use on secret missions above the arctic circle in Norway during the dead of winter."

Bringing the armour directly into play would only tip their hands, so Tony would be leaving it in its storage bay for the time being. This mission called for a bit more stealth than the last one, nearly a year ago, now, that they had all participated in as a group. Therefore, Jarvis would be standing by in a staging area just on the Swedish side of the border, well within range of the armour's flight capabilities to reach them, if there was a need. It would take him a quarter of an hour to reach them, though, so they would have to try to plan any engagements with that in mind.

Trying to placate him, Steve replied, "be that as it may, it's going to be a help to those of us who haven't got as much experience." The _like me_ went unsaid, implied but not unnoticed.

Tony smirked. "True. And at least you won't be able to get yourself shot while we're making our approach."

Steve groaned. "You made your point on that hours ago."

"And I'll keep making it until you _stop getting yourself shot_ ," came the verbal riposte.

Grumbling wordlessly, Steve hooked a hand in Tony's waistband and hauled him in close, getting a surprised yelp and a glare out of him. Adjusting his hold so that Tony was pinned against his torso, Steve threaded his free hand through Tony's hair, not caring that he was demolishing the carefully messy styling, and held his eyes. "Tony," he said, tone serious, "you know damn well that getting shot is a hazard of our profession. And before you go harping on the topic any more, I wasn't just being careless, either."

Tony sighed quietly and let his head fall forward to rest on a broad shoulder. "I know, but--"

"But you worry," Steve finished for him when he broke off. "I don't have it any easier when you go off information gathering, you know."

"This is different." Tony halfheartedly tried to push him away. "The last team to go in was killed, to the last man[6] ."

Even now that they'd been stepping out together for nearly a year, it was still a relatively rare occurrence for Tony to openly discuss emotions. Anytime he did, Steve took pains to be as open to what was said as he could manage. In return he got Tony to open up a little more each time.

This time, there was nothing he could say, nothing he could do, to make the worry dissipate. Only by successfully completing the mission could he prove to Tony that he would be fine. It was a bit of a frustrating paradox.

Deciding a distraction was in order, he hooked his hands under Tony's ass and hoisted him over one shoulder, ignoring his outraged shout and the squirming which really only emphasized the fact that he had to steady Tony with a hand on his ass. Thankfully, it wasn't far to their shared bedroom. Before dumping Tony on the bed, he gave in to the urge to get in a firm grope.

The intensity quickly rose, after that. Steve could feel Tony grip hard enough to bruise, and didn't care. He knew they would be gone in the morning. Knew he was probably doing the same to Tony. Once they properly got to it, both of them could feel the way the intensity didn't calm at all, instead nearly edging over into ferocity; Steve was pretty sure he'd left a number of bruises on Tony's arms and hips. Neither of them wanted to stop, even with the way they would probably ache in the morning, and afterwards they wound up tangled together, needing to take comfort from the sensation of touch to calm enough for sleep.

–------------------------

In the intervening year, the German Reich had come to encompass much of northern Norway in addition to the territory they held in Finland and Sweden. In the remote northern reaches of Europe, naturally, was the area they had claimed for their most secret and secure research and production facilities. In addition to the fuel reserves found in Finland and Norway, HYDRA and the Germanic Empire's Science Division had added a heavy water production plant into an existing hydroelectric power plant.

On the surface of it all, the mission sounded simple: meet Thor's delegation quietly at the port in Göteborg[7] , use the glider[8] they'd been provided with to get to the lake of Møsvatn[9], Norway, and traverse the empty snowy hectares between them and their goal on ski. After arriving at the German heavy water production facility in Rjukan, disable it in a way that would result in maximal damage to the German nuclear development program, destroy any shipments that could potentially be sent, partial or not, then get the hell out.

Preferably without being detected.

 _Easier said than done,_ Steve thought to himself wryly.

They would be carrying some TNT, and some more modern explosives developed by Tony and Dr. Banner over the course of the past year: C4[10] . Lighter, more stable, and more powerful, they would be used for the important structural charges, while the TNT was applied to the less important objectives, such as demolition of the railway line used to ship goods in and out of the remote area.

The biggest problem was ... Well, no. The _first_ problem would be getting there. The distance from the lake to the plant was nearly 15 kilometers. Not far in the grand scheme of things, but it was a trip they would be making during the long winter night. It wouldn't get light enough to see well at any point during the trip, making it that much more hazardous, given the mountains surrounding the lake.

Steve glanced around the deck of the ferry. They would be making landfall soon, and then there would be little time to enjoy the calm. And, Steve reflected, he would have to learn how to ski cross country.

–------------------------

"My friends," Thor's voice seemed to echo despite the open air around them, "it is good to see you again!"

Pepper, Clint and Natasha acknowledged the greeting politely, but left the speaking to Steve. For his part, Steve smiled broadly. "Good to see you too, Thor. I wish we could stay longer."

The reminder of their mission sobered Thor somewhat. "Or that I might join you. Alas, I must remain here to coordinate the efforts of our own military." He smiled, and added, "Sif sends you her greetings, Captain."

Steve shook his head, mock disappointed. "If she liked me, she would send more than her greetings."

Thor laughed. "She will not be happy to know how little you value her well wishes. But come, you must all join me for a meal before you continue. I see you have gathered some new compatriots."

It took an hour and a half to eat and satisfy Thor's curiosity; he hadn't directly met Tony or Jarvis previously and wanted to know what had become of Dr. Banner. The food was excellent, too, but Steve could no more have named what it all was than he could have flown to the Moon.

Eventually, well-fed and caught up on the news of the fighting in Norway, Jarvis suited up in the armour and flew off towards his staging area with a blast of heat and noise. The rest of the team continued on their way, using the glider to get within range of the heavy water plant. The weather turned sour on them shortly after they'd left Göteborg, though, and Clint cursed as he did his best to keep the glider from slipping sideways into the turbulent air coming from the tow plane's engines. The craft shuddered and bucked underfoot, and the rest of the team showed various degrees of discomfort. Tony had a white knuckled grip on his seat's armrests. He was used to piloting anytime he flew, and it made letting someone else pilot difficult at the best of times. Let alone when the aircraft was threatening to buck hard enough to break free of the tow plane prematurely.

The plan was to let the tow plane take them to the Norwegian border and cut them loose. At that point their targeted landing zone on the frozen lake Møsvatn would be just within reach. They'd have about a dozen kilometers of range left when they reached it, anyway, barring any more bad weather.

Luckily for everyone's tension levels, the weather system causing the trouble gave way to clear air soon after. Steve heard Tony force himself to relax with a long exhalation and a slight creak of the chair arms.

Landing the glider would be the next challenge. Even _finding_ the frozen lake would be difficult in the darkness, with the surface covered in snow. Judging the distances precisely enough for a safe landing would be hazardous, and that was why Clint had been tapped to fly. His eye for distance would be a valuable asset for that part of their approach.

But they still had a ways to go before they had to worry about it, so Steve set the problem aside, checking and repacking his supplies. Food and first aid kit on top, then his share of the explosives, his single change of civilian clothes for the trip home, and at the bottom his share of the camping gear[11] .

His shield, repainted in camouflage colors appropriate for the snowy environment, was strapped on the outside of his pack.

Finished, he settled back in his seat and closed his eyes, trying to sleep. It would be just over an hour and a half until they reached the lake. Enough time for a proper rest.

A hand tangling in his hair woke him. Stretching carefully so as not to interrupt the touch, Steve straightened, leaving his eyes closed for the moment. "We there yet?"

Tony huffed, amused. "Not yet, but soon. About fifteen minutes."

He relaxed into his seat, opening his eyes and slipping an arm around Tony. "You ready for this?"

"Cap, I was born ready for things like this." Steve raised an eyebrow at the bravado. Tony sobered slightly before he continued. "A lot of my adventures for _Marvels_ were more dangerous."

The glider dipped, signaling Clint's final adjustments before attempting the landing. This was it, really. They only had one chance to do this. Without an engine, the glider wouldn't have the power to pull up and circle around for a second try.

The narrow cabin shuddered once, hard, then settled into a continuous low vibration as Clint fought with the controls.

Steve's ears suddenly popped painfully as they quickly descended, and then he could just about make out the mountainside the plant stood on as they arrowed past, the snowed over surface of the lake neatly in Clint's sights.

It really seemed like the landing would go off without a hitch for a long moment, the landing gear touching gently down on the ice. The moment stretched and broke, though, when the glider faltered and tilted alarmingly.

And then they were skidding along the frozen lake surface with a harsh jolt that rattled everyone's teeth, slowly coming to a stop.

Tony stood with a grimace. "Here's hoping no one heard that."

"Shut up, Stark," Clint shot back. "I'd like to see you do better with a glider that hasn't got landing gear worth a damn."

"Enough," Steve stopped them both. "The snow should have kept the noise down outside. We need to get out of here and find a place to make camp. Single file, and try not the break the snow more than you have to."

They set up camp for the evening beneath the dubious shelter of a pair of tall evergreens, and slept as best they could when the fitful wind sometimes made clumps of snow fall from the trees’ branches and hit their tent ceilings with loud thumps. Steve heard grumbling for a while, and Tony tossing and turning trying to get comfortable. Pepper swatted at him with a thin makeshift pillow -- her spare shirt stuffed with any other spare clothing -- after five minutes, until he shut up. Clint somehow managed to drop off almost immediately. Steve was on first watch with Natasha. They would be waking Clint and Tony in about four hours.

This close to the hydroelectric plant, they'd have to keep an open eye out for German scouts, but not much more. They were in territory about as remote as it was possible to get without going north of the arctic circle.

–------------------------

With only a few weeks left before the winter solstice, the sun never quite made it over the horizon and past the treetops, tinting the sky bluish in the east and yielding a few hours of light[12] , but not doing much more. It was effectively still dark when they broke camp.

The areas where their skis would be useful would also take a while to cross, comprising nearly all of the distance currently separating them from their goal. They didn't have to hurry, thankfully, but their timetable didn't leave much room for error. They would have to make sure they got to the plant while darkness was still thick enough to hide them well. Once the light rose at dawn, in so far as it could be called dawn, they would be far more visible.

Tony groaned. "Why couldn't we land closer to the plant, again?"

Clint huffed, letting Natasha steady his shoulder as he attached the lightweight steel frames to his boots that let him latch on his skis[13] . Steve followed suit, leaning against one of the evergreens. "And get ourselves caught immediately? How confident are you that it won't be well guarded?"

"I didn't realize you were getting so out of shape, Tony," Pepper put in, making Natasha chuckle under her breath. "It's not even ten miles."

Shouldering his pack, Steve glanced around the campsite. The fire had been extinguished and the tents put away, meantime, so he busied himself with packing up the last few scattered items.

"Everything packed?" Steve interjected before the 'discussion' could become another argument. "It's time to go. Skis on." Taking the map of the area that he'd been given out of his belt pouch, Steve glanced at it quickly, trying to estimate their position. The low visibility made it difficult, and he hesitated. "Clint?"

"Yeah, Cap?"

"Where would you say we landed?"

Clint laughed once and sidestepped over, his skis already on and fastened, to point at the map. "About here."

And now he could make the vague shapes in the middle distance resolve into the hills and valleys that matched the map.

 

–------------------------

[6] The whole story of the mission Tony’s referencing is here: Wikipedia link -- [Operation Freshman](http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Operation_Freshman). To summarise, a different team attempted pretty much the same mission that the Noir-verse Avengers are about to, and all got killed or captured and _then_ killed. Click here to return to text.

[7] Thor's homeland in this verse, [Götaland](en.wikipedia.org/wiki/G%C3%B6taland), is a region of our verse's southern Sweden that existed during the [middle ages](en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sweden#Viking_and_Middle_Ages). Göteborg was its capital city in our verse during that time period, and remains so in this verse even in modern day. Click here to return to text.

[8] Pretty much what it says on the tin. A disposable aircraft without an engine used for troop and supply drops. Wikipedia link -- [US military glider](http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Military_glider) Click here to return to text.

[9] A short blurb on the plant and the area: Wikipedia link -- [Town of Møsvatn](http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/M%C3%B8svatn). There are links to follow for those who are interested in more information. Click here to return to text.

[10] In our verse, C4 isn't developed until the mid 1950s. Of course, since Tony and Bruce are intellectual BAMFs, they came up with it a little sooner in this alternate timeline. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/C-4_(explosive) Click here to return to text.

[11] All of the team members are carrying variants of this set of gear, tailored to their combat preferences: Weblink -- [WWII paratrooper supply list](http://www.wired.com/2012/06/d-day-paratrooper-gear-gadgets/#slideid-32574). Steve’s is missing the guns, for example, except for the pistol, whereas Clint has the rest of Steve’s share, as well as extra ammunition. Pepper’s is simply a bit lighter on the weapons and heavier on the food and other supplies. Click here to return to text.

[12] The area that the plant is in isn’t quite far enough north to see darkness all day, as it’s not above the arctic circle, but it is is far enough north that the effects would be quite noticeable. Wikipedia link -- [Polar night](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Polar_night). Click here to return to text.

[13] The system that the team is using is similar to this one: Wikipedia link -- [Ski boots](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ski_boot#External_frames). In our verse it wasn’t developed until the mid-80’s, but I’m taking a slight historical liberty, here, because they would be super useful -- no, necessary -- for a mission like this. Click here to return to text.


	3. Chapter 3

–------------------------  
Chapter 2  
–------------------------

The original plan had called for the team to make their way to the objective by following the lakeshore to the old road leading to the plant. They'd ended up on the wrong side of the lake. Now Steve had to make a decision: cross the lake to get to the initial planned route and make their trip longer by at least an hour, or try to use the map to navigate a new route on the far side of the lake.

The only approach possible from the side they were on was well defended, and they had no idea what lay ahead if they didn't cross to the opposite shore, but on the other hand, the original proposed route was very exposed. There was little cover along the lake shore.

After some internal debate, he nodded. The third option, crossing the lake and striking out on their own anyway, appealed to him the most. When he brought it up to the others, they agreed with his assessment. They wound up choosing a path that would take them around the small mountain the plant sat on and onwards to the railway line feeding into the plant[14] . That did make their route longer by about five kilometers and there was a good chance that the railway line would be guarded, but there their tracks would be less obvious, especially once they reached the areas patrolled by HYDRA. Their information listed three separate patrol routes that ran alongside the railway line, right out to the edge of the territory they kept a close watch on.

Sliding down the steep shore onto the thick ice, Steve fumbled slightly, not used to skis that only attached to the toes of his boots, and heard Tony snicker at him. With an internal shrug -- it was only fair; he made fun of Tony every so often -- he continued moving. It took some adjustment of the skills he already had. Once the surface leveled out under him, he took the chance to learn how to move and balance.

They moved single file, both to save energy -- it took work to break a path, even on skis -- and to hide their numbers. The fewer people the scouts thought they'd found, the better.

As they passed the glider, Steve winced at the length of the debris trail as well as the furrow it had dug in the snow. If anyone happened to pass by, it would be beyond obvious that they were in the area, and their tracks wouldn't have disappeared under a new layer of snowfall yet.

The climb up the far shore of the lake was annoying, more because the snow was less deep and the ground below rocky than because it was difficult, and forced the team to move carefully or risk scuffing the wax off their skis. Sure, it was a problem with a simple solution, but it took a lot of time for them to clear the obstacle, and that was in short supply.

Taking the lead, Steve struck out, headed southeast relative to the lakeshore. Without a clear line of sight on the mountain because of the trees all around them, he would have to rely on dead reckoning and his compass.

The darkness made for slow going, and he ended up in a thicket without an exit more than once, but about four hours later they stopped to eat within sight of the mountain. It was weird eating lunch when the skies said it was nearer dawn than midnight, but they managed, appetites whetted by the exertion of forcing their way through the forest and deep snow.

Thinking back to the mission last year, Steve smiled wryly. At least they wouldn't have to spend the night here, afterwards. Once their objective had been accomplished, they were to make their way to Oslo for extraction. That meant overnighting in the wilds two or three times, and this time they were prepared for that eventuality. Each of them was carrying a portion of dried rations and an appropriately warm bedroll. Which did unfortunately make their packs somewhat bulky, but it was worth the effort.

Finishing off his meal, Steve straightened. "Ready to move on?"

"Not yet," Pepper returned. "One of my skis is causing problems."

Tony shuffled over and crouched down to look at it, twisting a bit awkwardly to be able to get a good look, hampered as he was by his own skis. "The steel frame is warped. Best we can do is tighten it down a bit more," he reported after poking at it.

"Do it," Pepper ordered. "The last thing I need is a sprained or broken ankle this far out in the middle of nowhere because my ski came loose at the wrong moment."

With a nod, Tony did as he was instructed. "Let me know if that doesn't help. I can try to figure out a way to fix it."

The remainder of the trip to the railway line was uneventful. Steve found his thoughts wandering back over old history, as he moved, attention on their course only needing a fraction of his focus. Johann "Red Skull" Schmidt had started out his career as a captain in the Germanic Empire's army just before their meteoric rise to prominence through war. He'd gained the nickname for his habit of painting a red skull on any vehicle he drove, one for every ten kills he amassed. There had, unsurprisingly, been a large number of them. His rise through the army's ranks had been just as rapid as the Empire's expansion, for that matter. It had seemed that every time Steve had heard the name, it had had a new title attached. It normally took more than two decades to rise to the rank of General. Schmidt had done it in five years. And now he wanted Bruce and Erskine's Serum.

If he got it, it would make the Germanic Empire all but unstoppable.

Then again, Steve added silently, swallowing back an aggravated sound, the efforts of the Nazi deep science division HYDRA to give him access to atomic weapons would be just as bad.

They reached their intermediate goal sooner than expected, actually, which implied that Steve had drifted off course slightly at some point, but since they were where they wanted to be, no one particularly cared.

They continued on, silently as they could, wary of possible guard posts nearby. Odds were good that there were none before the plant itself, but they weren't taking chances at this point.

Thanks to a Norwegian mole inside the plant, the information they'd gotten during their briefing with Fury had included detailed plans of the plant's layout, including a cable tunnel that they intended to use to enter, the locations of the electrolysis tanks that were their primary targets, and most of the guard posts inside. Those outside were not specifically known, aside from those guarding the bridge.

In under twenty minutes, meeting no one, they had reached the cable tunnel, its doors shut but not locked, and hastily ducked inside. Inside, darkness reigned briefly before Pepper and Clint lit their lanterns. Powered by dynamos, they required no batteries, but ran down more quickly.

The dim light revealed that the space they were in was relatively open[15] , a round bore through the side of the mountain three meters in diameter with cables mounted to both 'sides', and lights running down a line along the highest point.

After a bit of shuffling as they took off their skis and strapped them to their backpacks then readied their weapons and the explosives, they dimmed both lanterns and set off down the tunnel as silently as possible. According to the information they'd been given, there should not be any guard posts between them and the plant itself, but it never hurt to be cautious. It had happened to his team -- and Tony's -- on various occasions that their intel was wrong, or out of date.

It took some fifteen more minutes, but then they were facing the service door that would get them into the plant. Their informant, one Dr. Selvig, would theoretically be meeting them on the far side, ready to show them where the electrolysis tanks were. Steve was certain Tony could have identified them, too, but that was their backup plan.

Once the plant was wired up, they would do their best to disappear, however, which meant leaving Dr. Selvig where he was. The scientist had no way to acquire skis and survival equipment without his guards noticing, and they'd had no way to carry the surplus to equip him. But to have a scientist working through the night was apparently not uncommon here. At least in Dr. Selvig's case. No one had batted an eye, it would appear, in the face of the mild eccentricity.

Steve stepped forward and tapped on the door, the rest of his team standing tensely at his back, prepared to pounce on and silence anyone beyond the door if it was needed. The moment felt like it stretched, and then the door creaked open with a squeal of hinges that needed oiling. Steve winced at the sound, which was intensified by the unlined concrete walls of the cable tunnel.

“Captain?”

“Dr. Selvig?”

“Well met,” the scientist smiled at them tiredly, bruises under his eyes hinting at his late night studies. “This way.”

When Tony brought up his nocturnal working hours, Dr. Selvig smiled wryly. "HYDRA has no problem with their scientists working harder than expected, or odd hours, as long as the work produces some results."

They went up a flight of stairs and down a long narrow hallway as they talked, still in the sub-basement of the plant. Some fifty meters later, they entered a large room off the right hand side of the hallway. It wasn't very large, but it was quite warm. Along the far wall stood three rows of large tanks, each of a diameter of a meter and a half and a height of three meters, with well-labeled heavy duty electrical and water lines leading in and out. Nine in total.

Tony nodded, expression thoughtful and his eyes tracing the lines as he took off his pack and dug inside it for his share of the C4. "This is it. Showtime."

Actually planting the explosives and wiring them to go off in three hours took less time than Steve had expected. Just under five minutes later, the last charge was in place.

They all straightened and assembled in the center of the room for any further instructions. They needed to go, but rushing wouldn't benefit them.

"Captain Rogers?" Dr. Selvig was the first to speak, his expression and body language reeking of guilt and nervousness. "There's something that you need to know."

Tony gave the Norwegian scientist a suspicious look.

There was a pregnant pause before Selvig continued. "My cover got blown somehow."

It was Clint that blurted, "What!"

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose, only half watching as Natasha approached the already nervous scientist, ready to pry the whole story out of him if necessary. "What, exactly, did you tell them, Selvig," Steve demanded. "Did you just lead us into a trap?"

"No trap, I swear it! I want these bastards put out of business. The sooner the better, and preferably permanently." Selvig looked at his feet, then, shame retaking his indignant posture and making it droop. "They think you're showing up next week to target the bridge and the shipping routes."

"But?" Tony prompted impatiently.

"But they've tightened security now in preparation for the attack they think you're going to make. Your original escape route won't work."

Tony turned to Steve and gave him a long despairing look. "Well, Cap, it looks like we need a new plan."

Clint groaned, making a face at Tony. "Because just making shit up on the fly is gonna work so well."

"I prefer half a plan to no plan at all," Pepper chided him.

"Enough," Steve cut in. "Selvig, what are the other ways out of here?"

The scientist snorted. "They're all guarded. You'll never get out unseen."

"That's not what I asked," Steve replied, and Tony half-smirked, amused by the exchange.

"There are none except the main entrance and the loading docks at the railway platform," Selvig reluctantly answered, "but both of them are heavily guarded. The main entrance opens out onto the bridge across the falls, and the railway platform is under triple guard."

"What about the way we came?" Clint wanted to know.

"That door only opens from the outside. You'd have to break it down, and lose a lot of time. I doubt you have the tools for that in your kits."

He had a point.

"Alright," Steve nodded, making a decision. "Here's what we're going to do. Clint, you're taking Natasha and Pepper with you and getting out via the railway platform. Quietly as you can. Then head back southeast along the railway tracks for an hour. That should get you to a safe distance from the plant. Tony and I will meet you there. Selvig, I want you to tell them anything you know about the placement of the guard stations. Tony and I are going out through the main entrance. We'll rendezvous somewhere along the railway line."

"I'm not sure this is a good idea," Clint muttered, starting to walk. "I have a bad feeling about this."

"You got a better plan," Tony shot back, checking his weapons. "Odds are really good that some or all of us are going to get caught. Whoever gets out first better warn Jarvis that he might have to come haul our asses out of the fire."

–------------------------

It almost worked.

He and Tony had managed to sneak to the bridge itself, and done their level best to blast their way out through the guard posts. The remaining TNT in Tony's pack had been hastily wired up into a series of makeshift grenades, each stick set to go off five seconds after it had been triggered.

He'd offered to do the same for Steve's leftover explosives, but been turned down. Steve wanted to be free to focus on using his shield. Explosives were more Tony's forte, in the first place. Instead he'd given Tony his share of the makeshift weapons to do with as he pleased.

The pair of them were crouched in the shadow of an open door, out of sight for the moment, and Steve had given in to the need to pull Tony in for a harsh kiss with a muttered, 'stay safe, hear?'.

Then he'd taken a rolling dive out of the minimal cover they'd been making use of and made a break for it, clearing out the guard posts as he went by the simple tactic of knocking the men manning them out. Tony was hot on his heels, throwing his improvised grenades at any guards Steve missed and careful to stay behind the protection of Steve's shield as much as possible. After a stunned five seconds, bullets started raining down on the shield like hail.

Just before they reached the halfway point of the bridge, a surprised grunt from Tony distracted him at the wrong moment, and Steve turned just enough to ascertain his status. The decision turned out to be a critical error. An instant later, he felt a bullet hit the back of his helmet. It was only a glancing blow, but the force behind it had the world going hazy, wavering in and out of focus, before going dark.

 

–------------------------

[14] Here is a map of the area cheerfully screencapped from Googlemaps and scribbled on, with the team's approximate path marked on it.

Click here to return to text.

[15] An image of what a cable tunnel looks like, for those who would like one: Weblink -- [Cable tunnel image](http://tawreed-bahrain.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/02/Node1188_cable_tunnel1.jpg). Click here to return to text.


	4. Chapter 4

–------------------------  
Chapter 3  
–------------------------  
  
He woke to the sound of a low half-voiced moan, cut off by a harsh grunt.  
  
 _Tony._  
  
"Fine," came the reply, and Steve realized he'd spoken the name out loud.  
  
Forcing his eyes open, Steve only saw grey for a long moment. Once he'd gathered the presence of mind to raise his head from where it rested on half on the back of the chair and half on his shoulder, he tried to reach up to touch the bruise he was sure to have on his face, he was brought up short.  
  
Someone had tied him to a chair. Relatively securely, but--  
  
Another pained intake of breath from Tony redirected his slightly hazy thoughts.  
  
<< "So, your friend's awake," >> one of the two uniformed man in the room taunted Tony in German. <<"Shall we let him in on our game?">>  
  
"Fuck you," Tony glared at him. It was only then that Steve realized Tony had been stripped to the waist, his repulsor pump revealed to the world. Exposed. That was the word for it. He also had bandages wrapped around his upper right arm, probably to keep the bullet wound from killing him before HYDRA could interrogate him, and several large bruises rising scattered across his torso.  
  
The way his thoughts were wandering, Steve suspected he had a concussion to go with the bruises he could feel all over his own shoulders. The HYDRA officers clearly hadn't been overly gentle with them between their capture and their imprisonment in this tiny room.  
  
Oh. Wait. He ought to figure out the layout of the room, shouldn't he.  
  
Before he could do much more than note the concrete walls and ceiling, and the heavy steel door with hinges on the outside, the 'game' picked up again, and Steve wanted to destroy someone.  
  
Tony tried to flinch away when the HYDRA officer in charge laid a hand on his bare chest, right beside the cover of the repulsor pump. Steve would have broken the chair in half, had his struggles to get to Tony not been blunted by the concussion.  
  
<< "Are you prepared to tell us why you are here, now," >> came the deceptively mild-voiced demand.  
  
"I told ya before, buddy, I don't speak German," Tony replied. Steve knew he was lying through his teeth, but the HYDRA goons might not. Steve carefully made sure he kept his mouth shut. He could feel his injuries slowly fading, now, and thankfully his focus was the first thing to come back. He'd feel the concussion for a few days, but it would not interfere with his plan, anymore. A few of the bruises were severe enough to linger longer.  
  
A more careful assessment of his bindings revealed that he'd been secured, but not to the extent that would have been called for if they knew who he was.  
  
Thank God for small blessings.  
  
With no way to tell how long he'd been unconscious, he could only plan for some of the most likely possible contingencies. The time required to haul them down here from the bridge and patch Tony up was probably about twenty minutes. Maybe longer, if they'd bothered to clean up the wound first. Not that that was necessarily a likely scenario. For him to wake afterwards, probably another ten or fifteen, judging by Tony's state: mostly uninjured except for the obvious, and still lucid.  
  
So if they could hold out for a half hour, the cavalry should arrive to help break them out.  
  
As he finished the thought, the asshole hit Tony again, and Steve's fists clenched without a conscious decision.  
  
Unfortunately, the officer not engaged in trying to get information out of Tony was watching him, and noted the reaction. He smirked nastily. << "Hey, Jörg," >> he called, << "maybe we're using the wrong approach." >>  
  
Turning back to Steve with an appraising look, he added, << "You understand us, don't you. Yes, I think you do. So worried about your injured friend, here," >> he let the words trail off, with an expression on his face that promised more pain.  
  
Tony tried to catch his eyes, to calm him down, but it was too late. For all he knew it was a dead giveaway, Steve couldn't help the growl rising in his throat.   
  
The officer laughed, the sound strange and out of place, then added, << "I thought so. Are you going to tell us what we want to know," >> he inquired, calmly and mock politely.  
  
Steve just glared at him silently, holding the officer's eyes and trying to stare him down, well aware that anything he said was likely to make the situation worse. Across the room, Tony made a strangled noise high in his throat.  
  
Refusing to look over, knowing it would weaken his resolve to wait out their reinforcements, Steve forced himself to review the situation again.  
  
Meantime, they were down to about twenty minutes of delay before Jarvis showed up.  
  
A shout from Tony shattered his concentration. "Hey! Get away from that!"  
  
The pair of HYDRA officers chuckled. << "You know," >> the one tormenting Tony said to his comrade, lazily running his fingers back and forth across the cover of Tony's repulsor pump, << "the more he struggles, the more effective this exercise will be." >>  
  
It was obvious Tony was torn between struggling more and cursing up a blue streak. It was Steve's turn to try to catch _Tony's_ eyes. It was a little more effective than Tony's attempt.  
  
The HYDRA officers were clearly assuming that no one was going to come back for them.  
  
That was their big advantage.   
  
But if the assholes went through with what they were threatening...  
  
Well, Steve decided, they would get back whatever they did to Tony in spades.  
  
He refused to think about the danger to Tony. To consider that letting these two officers toy with the repulsor pump could easily kill him. If he did, he would break, and probably get them in worse trouble.  
  
The problem was that, justified or not in doing so, these men considered themselves scientists as well as soldiers. Something as novel as Tony's implant would be nearly irresistible to them.  
  
A scuffle broke Steve's concentration again. Both HYDRA officers laughed. One gleefully and the other appreciatively. When Steve focused on the officer standing over Tony, what he saw chilled him to the bone. The man was pinning one of Tony's shoulders to the chair, which was braced against the wall at its back, and almost gently opening the cover of the repulsor pump.  
  
<< "You should come see this," >> he called to his friend, << "this is remarkable." >>  
  
Steve wasn't sure whether to be relieved or not, when the second officer's 'scientific' curiosity overtook his need to cause them both pain. Wasn't sure because while that meant he could try to work himself quietly free of his bonds, it also meant both of them were toying with Tony, and Steve couldn't see what was happening. It _hurt_ , in a way that reminded him of the bullet he'd recently had in his shoulder, to stay put. Not to tear the assholes apart.  
  
<< "Oh, look, this appears to regulate the power flow," >> was the comment from the first officer. It was followed by a pained scream.  
  
Steve saw red. Caught between the knowledge that this could get them both killed, and that waiting could get Tony killed, he hesitated for a moment. The next scream made the decision for him.  
  
Almost before the sound had faded, Steve was out of his chair and across the room. Before they could do more than turn, both officers were out cold.  
  
He didn't need his shield to fight, after all.  
  
Luckily, the kinds of sounds he caused in taking out the officers wouldn't draw much attention from anyone outside. He was sure they all knew what was going on in the room. Making sure the HYDRA officers were down for the count, Steve straightened, and forced the cuffs still on his wrists open. They'd held, though the chair had not, leaving him with chunks of the chair's wooden arms and back dangling from his arms.  
  
Stopping the torture had had the effect of leaving Tony panting in the chair he'd been cuffed to, thankfully conscious and lucid if pale and exhausted. Steve could see him shaking from across the room.  
  
"Tony?" He crossed the room then went down on one knee, bending to free Tony's feet, then his hands. Gathering his pale lover up out of the chair, he checked Tony over carefully, securing the cover of the repulsor pump as he did. Running his hands over Tony's body didn't reveal any major injuries that hadn't already been obvious, and Steve thanked whatever God was watching over them. Tony's shirt had been cut off him, leaving behind a series of nicks and cuts on his neck and torso, where the HYDRA goons hadn't been overly careful, but none was deep enough to warrant immediate attention.  
  
Tony caught his hands, then. "You can stop worrying, now."  
  
"We still need to get out of here," Steve reminded him.  
  
"So get me one of their uniforms. You're too big to fit in either one, and I need a shirt."  
  
"Or we could just wait those fifteen minutes until our backup shows up," Steve suggested.  



	5. Chapter 5

–------------------------  
Chapter 4  
–------------------------

In the end, it was closer to twenty minutes.

He and Tony had been arguing over the best approach to take as well as the route to and location of the weapons lockers when the entire building shook around them. A puff of dust came from the small cracks in the ceiling, and Tony stood. The chance to recover had been a good thing. He looked a lot better.

_Less likely to fall unconscious on his feet, anyway,_ Steve amended the thought even as he began moving toward the door. Tony pulled the uniform hat down over his forehead, shading his features just slightly.

It didn't hide the livid bruise coming up on his cheekbone, or the distinctive beard, but it would have to do. Most people saw what they expected to see, so it might work. Steve's appearance was actually far more bedraggled, at this point.

"Follow me and look angry," Tony quipped, holding out a pair of the cuffs HYDRA had used to secure him. They were quite broken, given the way Steve had pulled them open using brute force, earlier, but they would likely work well enough for what Tony had in mind.

It was one of the oldest ruses in the book, but Steve wasn't about to let go an advantage that he didn't have to.

"Doesn't sound so difficult," he shot back, offering Tony his wrists. "You sure you know where to go?"

"We still have nearly two hours on the timers, and we need our things or we won't get far, even if we manage to get out of this place. And the distraction Jarvis is providing won't last forever," Tony replied calmly as he put the cuffs on and jimmied them shut. It would be more difficult to keep them on than to remove them, Steve noted.

Another salvo of explosions sounded from several floors above them, powerful enough to rattle larger bits of concrete debris from the ceiling. They needed to get their supplies and get _out_.

At this rate, Jarvis would end up bringing down the building around them.

They were out the door and moving, Tony pretending to march him along, and Steve glaring at him as convincingly as he could. Without any idea where they were going, they would have to also subtly keep an eye on their surroundings and look for clues as to the location of their things.

The building currently resembled a kicked up anthill. Men were running back and forth, some more calmly than others. The scientists were being herded into the deepest sub levels, and everyone else was hurrying to their assigned battle stations. The chaos made for great cover.

Steve had no intention of leaving without retrieving his shield. Not only was it valuable, but leaving it behind would also bring the full force of Red Skull's Wehrmacht down on their heads. It was his calling card, and would be immediately recognizable, the moment the paint scraped off a bit. Hell, possibly even if it didn't. It was probably sheer luck and their foes' incompetence that had saved them thus far. He had to retrieve it. And if that meant he could get Tony some means to defend himself in the process, so much the better.

His train of thought was abruptly derailed, when Tony stopped short and turned down a side corridor. "We need to turn back and make it look natural, if we can. They had your shield in that lab back and to the left," he murmured.

He'd been paying more attention than Steve.

"What about the rest of our supplies?" Steve replied, his voice equally low.

"We'll have to see if someone in there knows. I sure don't." Tony returned, tone tart.

He waited until the hallway was clear, then turned Steve around and marched him back the way they'd come, turning to enter the lab through the small atrium. Steve removed the wrist cuffs as they passed the first door and threw them into a corner behind a desk situated neatly between the outer door and the lab itself. Once he had his shield back, that camouflage wouldn't work anymore, anyway.

The lab proper was a clutter of machines Steve had no hope of recognizing and messy workbenches. His shield was currently undergoing some kind of tests at the workbench in the center of the lab, amid a cluster of techs. The scientists seemed to have been evacuated already.

Stopping squarely between the techs and the lab door, Tony straightened his shoulders and lifted his head. The change was startling; suddenly he looked every inch the officer he was pretending to be. One of the techs noticed him then, and muttered something that sounded like 'oh shit'.

<< "The shield, if you please," >> Tony's body language turned the polite request into a demand, and diverted the techs' attention from Steve. The fighting was a good excuse for the bruises he was sporting, it appeared. No one questioned him. << "Where are the prisoners' remaining belongings?" >>

<< "Of course, sir," >> a lab tech hurried over with it. << "Their backpacks are in the adjoining lab. Are we to join the scientists, now?" >>

It was the ideal opening, and Tony took it. << "Yes," >> Tony gave them all a stern look, << "make your way to your assigned places. No lingering. Leave everything here. You will be allowed to retrieve it later if necessary." >>

<< "Yes, sir." >>

Tony watched as they filed out, then immediately looked for a door to the other room. He found it, half hidden behind a large bookcase. "Odds are good we won't get our skis back, but as long as we have the rest, it should be manageable."

"I don't much care as long as we get our camping and food supplies back," Steve agreed, checking over his shield as he spoke. The camouflage paint had been scraped off in places, and the bright colors underneath could be seen. Whether they had realized who he was was an open question.

Another explosion interrupted them, shaking the building underfoot.

Without another word, Steve gently shouldered Tony out of the way and forced the door with a well placed kick near the knob[16] . The metal deadbolt screeched against its slot for a moment, and then the wood of the door gave around it and the door swung easily open.

Luckily no one was in the smaller adjoining lab.

They grabbed up their supplies without checking to see whether it was intact or all accounted for, and then they were rushing out of the room and back into the chaos. Their skis were still attached to their packs.

Without the thin cover provided by the cuffs and without the attitude to go with the uniform (not to mention their packs and supplies), they got a number of weird looks, but no one directly challenged them, more focused on fending off the attack from above. The distinctive rattle of HmG fire broke into Steve's thoughts, and he hoped like hell Jarvis wasn't taking too many chances with that even as he knew it was basically impossible to stop the man from doing what he thought needed to be done.

They were much closer to the outer courtyard, now, and the sounds of the fighting were correspondingly clearer.

It was obvious, now, that it wasn't only Jarvis who had returned to the plant. The others had joined him in wreaking havoc.

"You ready for this," Tony asked him with an expression of mixed concern and glee.

"Tony, I was born ready for things like this," he returned, intentionally using Tony's words from the flight in as he readied his shield. With a last glance back down the corridor, he squared his shoulders. "Time to go. Stay behind cover."

"Shut up and move," Tony replied, clearly wanting to get _out_ of this place.

Nodding, Steve pushed open the door standing between them and the firefight, knowing that the act would probably immediately gain them the attention of both sides and carefully keeping himself behind the protection of the shield. It wouldn't do to catch a bullet now.

–------------------------

[16] I’ll just leave this link here. It’s fairly self-explanatory: Weblink -- [How to break down a door](http://lifehacker.com/5853774/break-down-a-door-without-hurting-yourself). Click here to return to text.


	6. Chapter 6

–------------------------  
Chapter 5  
–------------------------

Sure enough, the moment they were in sight, Jarvis noticed them. Having such a recognizable weapon as the shield was occasionally a good thing. It tended to make him very visible in a fight.

"On your five, high," Tony called out, using one of the improvised grenades, which hadn't been taken out of his pack.

Steve looked up, spotting Jarvis in the process of neutralizing a machine gun nest that hadn't been there during their earlier escape attempt. It likely wouldn't stay neutralized for long, but for now he wouldn't have to simultaneously keep an eye on the HYDRA men on the ground as well as the machine gun.

They were maybe thirty meters from the door when Tony cursed. "This is taking way too much time."

Steve knew Tony was right. It had taken them almost fifteen minutes to get this far. There was still plenty of time left on the planted C4, but they wanted to be well away, on the off chance that the hillside couldn't take the strain. A plunge into the river would be almost guaranteed to be fatal, since the height of the initial fall was nearly 50 meters and it was followed by a second drop down the falls. Which were being tapped into for the plant's power generation. The drop into the river was likely to knock a person unconscious, resulting in a drowning. Anyone who managed not to pass out and drown would inexorably get pulled downriver and would hit the hydroelectric turbines. If the fall into the river wasn't fatal, that would be.

A carefully timed throw of his shield took out the HmG in the nest, jarring it loose of its moorings and to the ground beside Tony. The shield was back in his hands just barely in time to deflect another long round of suppressing fire from the guard posts between then and the railway line.

"Tony," he bit out, keeping a close watch on the ways into the almost-courtyard they were in, "make for the railway line. We need to get out of here before we get pinned down."

"This would be so much easier to coordinate if we had radios," Tony shot back, grabbing up the HmG as he spoke and staggering under its weight until he managed to compensate. A few bursts of covering fire briefly silenced their pursuit.

"Worry about that later," was all Steve said, turning towards his new objective, assuming Tony would follow and watch their backs.

Some of the HYDRA goons hesitated before opening fire, simply on the basis that Tony was wearing a stolen uniform.

<< "Stop them," >> came the shouted command. Steve couldn't place the officer's location.

Evidently Clint did, though, and a single shot rang out from one of the wall's guard towers, not quite hidden in the general noise of the fight, and was followed by a surprised shout of dismay from several of the HYDRA men standing beside the officer.

Tony sent a burst of fire in the same direction, making most of the men duck for cover.

The return fire fell on Steve's shield, almost dead in the center, and he imagined he could _feel_ the camouflage paint getting stripped off. Much more abuse, and he'd be an obvious target. Well. More obvious.

As he finished the thought, a surprised exclamation went up from one of the HYDRA subofficers on the ground. << "It's Captain America! Orders are to capture him on sight!" >>

" _Shit_!" Tony cursed, "not good. Steve, _get moving_!"

In the next moment, Jarvis landed beside them, voice ringing out harshly over the sounds of the fight even as he bodily blocked a salvo of fire from a machine gun emplacement that had been set up on a roof to their left. "I'm almost out of munitions. We need to wrap this up, _now_."

Steve nodded. "The others?"

"Already know. They're prepared to cover your retreat."

"Right." Steve deflected one more burst of fire, and turned to Tony. "Let Jarvis get you out of here. You have no armour whatsoever. I'll be fine for five minutes."

"And let you get overrun? No chance."

Jarvis chose that moment to put his foot down, as he picked off a half-squad trying to flank them. "He's right, Tony."

"No, not without you!"

It was Tony's nightmare come to life. Steve winced, but he held firm. He wasn't about to lose Tony over something like this. "Go, get the hell out of here. I can't fight and worry about you at the same time."

With an expression that clearly said he was torn between hurt, outrage, and terror, Tony stood frozen for a long moment. Steve knew it had been a low blow, but couldn't regret it. It had actually gotten through, apparently.

Jarvis raised his right arm to point over Tony's shoulder, taking out another HYDRA goon. "You're wasting time. Tony, with me. Captain, get over to The southeast guard tower. There's a gap in the walls there."

His reluctance clear, Tony finally allowed himself to be picked up and Jarvis took off like a shot before he was properly settled. Refocusing his attention, he smiled grimly. Just another day at work.

Time to go.

The HYDRA men had realized by now that something had changed, though not what. They were approaching again, cautiously.

Now that he didn't have to hold back so that Tony could keep up, Steve could make full use of his abilities. A single leap had him standing on the roof of a nearby tank, but stealing it would take too long. He settled for using the shield to cut the tracks when he jumped down on the far side, disabling the vehicle.

He could see Jarvis carefully covering Tony and Natasha appearing seemingly out of thin air to fight at his lover's side. Clint offered covering fire for the group of them and occasionally for Steve as well.

Making his way over to them as quickly as he dared, Steve did his best to destroy or disable any of the weapons or squads that he came up against. Anything that slowed him in reaching his objective was an unwanted distraction, at this point.

They were almost home free. It wouldn't take long to get the others out. He just had to get to them, and they could get the hell out of this place. He plotted a course for himself through the mêlée and started moving. This seemed almost too quick an end to the fight, though. Something about it felt off.

The thought carried him through a couple more squads of HYDRA goons, and he felt a sting in his upper left arm. Looking down revealed the end of what looked like a dart, sticking out of the armour of his costume.

_Shit._


	7. Chapter 7

–------------------------  
Chapter 6  
–------------------------

Reality felt fuzzy. The bed he was lying on felt far harder than he was used to. Like a table, really. His eyes didn't want to focus, everything throbbed dully, and he was cold. Trying to raise a hand to rub at his face resulted in nothing.

\-------

He felt simultaneously numb and like his nerves were on fire. He might have screamed; he wasn't sure. His throat felt as though it had been filled with glass shards.

\-------

Struggling didn't help. He was cold and wet and immobilized and he couldn't breathe. Was he back in the ice? At least the fire was gone.

\-------

His left hand felt like all of the skin had been scraped off and the remaining raw flesh had been covered in sand. It burned and stung and _he needed to know what was happening_. He tried to lift it to look at it and failed. His arm didn't respond and his eyes wouldn't open.

\-------

Voices around him. Words he knew, but didn't understand. Not in English, and not concerned. Were they talking about him? Why?

Before he could make sense of the input, the world went dark again and the fire returned.

\-------

Waking up was like a dream, this time. He hurt, but it felt somehow distant. Why was he sleeping? And why the hell was Natasha leaning over him? Oh. He was strapped to a table. He was --

She hushed him quietly when he tried to speak. "Not here. Not now. We'll get you out of there soon."

It felt like only moments had passed before she was back. It had probably been much longer. "Can you stand?"

Trying to reply didn't work; he could assemble the sentence he wanted, but speaking it was another matter. What the hell was wrong with him?

That didn't seem to bother Natasha, though. She simply threaded a hand under his arm and around his torso and lifted.

It took him three tries to find his feet, and somewhere in his mind that screamed wrongness. The injuries weren't helping. Between the abrasions on his arms and legs where he'd subconsciously fought the restraints, the bruises, the burns, the general soreness and weakness, and the possibly broken wrist, he knew he was going to be far more of a hindrance than a help. The fuzziness of his thoughts all but screamed drugs, now that he was a little more aware.

"Nnnn, 'Tasha," he finally managed to force out, trying to articulate the question and failing.

"Shh, it's okay. We don't have much time. I'll explain once we're out of here. Just walk with me."

The floor shuddered underfoot in a very familiar way. "Tony?" He was glad that words were coming more easily, now. "Here?"

"And Jarvis," Natasha confirmed. "You were missing for more than three weeks before we could work out where they'd taken you. Took us another two to get authorisation from Fury and organise the mission."

Steve couldn't hold back the shudder that swept through him. "Plant?"

"Thoroughly destroyed. But HYDRA captured you."

He nodded, satisfied with that for the moment, and focused on putting one foot in front of the other.

The rest of the escape was a blur that lasted until the rendezvous in Basel. He only vaguely registered the walk, well, stumble, through knee-deep snow to a nearby farm, the theft of a car, and the transfer to a train. Almost before Natasha had settled him in his seat, he was asleep, lulled by the warmth and her presence.

He had no idea how much later he was woken by Natasha's insistent prodding. His internal time sense was completely broken. But Pepper showed up to meet them at the main train station, and deftly took him in hand. That in and of itself made the day much better. He liked Pepper. An arm hooked in his and they looked like one of many other couples walking through the streets, but allowed her to subtly support him and keep a close eye on him.

The knowledge that he was with friends let him relax a bit, a knot of anxiety he hadn't realized was there slowly coming undone. The only problem was that that had been a large part of what had kept him on his feet, and Pepper stumbled slightly under his weight. She waved away his muttered apology.

"Save that for Tony. He's been pretty much unbearable," came the rejoinder as she guided him to a set of stairs. Steve tried and failed to suppress the wince that thought engendered. Tony would be furious, and rightly so.

The building was small and unassuming. Somewhere in the center of the city, but tucked away in a seldom traveled alley. He hadn't been paying attention to the path they'd taken, and so didn't know where he was. Normally that would have bothered him, but he trusted Pepper, and it didn't help that he still felt distant and hazy. Whatever drug they'd used on him, it was a doozy.

Thankfully, Pepper didn't seem to require a response. She paused long enough to dig a key out of her coat pocket, and let them into the house. The stairs that immediately loomed before him were steep and dimly lit and supported a figure that jumped up the moment the door had shut behind them.

"Steve!" Tony all but knocked him off his feet, and then a pair of hands was hurriedly checking him over as Pepper quietly walked away, deeper into the house.

Steve leaned into the touch, letting his head fall onto Tony's shoulder and tucking his nose into the hollow of Tony's throat, content to just stay where he was. He could feel his lover trembling.

"Tony," was all he managed to get out before he was pulled upright and the air was being kissed out of him. With a slight smirk, Steve let Tony do as he pleased, enjoying the attention.

It took several long minutes for Tony to let him go and back off enough to speak. When he did, it was only after he'd wrapped his arms back around Steve tightly and his voice was hoarse with emotion. It jerked Steve back to a semblance of awareness. "I almost can't believe you're really here."

"I'm fine."

Tony ignored the attempt at reassurance and started a tirade Steve knew wouldn't end anytime soon. "You're not. You're bruised, pale, exhausted, and don't even get me started on your injuries--"

"I'm here," he cut Tony off, wrapping the less severely injured arm around his lover's waist and carefully using the other hand to force Tony to meet his eyes and pointedly ignoring the way it hurt to do so, "I'm alive, and I'll recover."

"But--"

"No, Tony. Pot, kettle. You look terrible."

"Your fault," came the reply, muffled by the material of Steve's shirt. It was tempting, but Steve knew better than to draw attention to the way Tony was supporting him and generally playing mother hen.

That was the moment Pepper chose to reappear. "And that is why you are both eating something light and then getting some rest. Kitchen, now. Don't keep Jarvis waiting."

With a quiet snort, Tony untangled himself. Steve staggered for a moment, and Tony immediately hooked a shoulder under his arm. After a moment Tony wrapped a strong arm around his waist, pulling Steve as close against him as was possible while leaving him the freedom to move. It was what Steve wanted, too, so he kept quiet. His lover was a long line of solid warmth down his side, his very presence satisfying and calming.

Steve had to prompt him into moving. "So... Where's the kitchen?"


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now, for those of you patient enough to stick with this, the conclusion:

–------------------------  
Chapter 7  
–------------------------

Since Steve could barely stand on his own when they got him out, they took ten days of downtime in Basel. In retrospect, Steve reflected, it was amazing they'd pulled off the rescue without drawing attention. He must have been all kinds of conspicuous, pale, injured, and possibly raving. The armours, he'd found out later, had been crated up and shipped to London first thing the morning after his rescue.

Knowing that didn't make the mother-henning easier to tolerate, though. He'd never been the most cooperative patient, and Tony's hovering wasn't helping.

Even knowing that Tony needed the reassurance, Steve wanted to shout at him that _he was fine, damn it._

Pepper, ever observant, must have noticed the building friction. She bustled in every so often with soup or a snack for Steve and a distraction for Tony in the form of paperwork or _Marvels_ manuscripts that needed his approval. He'd have to get her something nice once this was resolved, Steve decided.

Three days after his rescue, his worst injuries had more or less healed, though he was still forced to favor his wrist. Steve was glad of that. They had made things like reading or dressing tedious and painful activities.

At the end of the week, the wrist was healed too, and he was really starting to get restless. To chafe at the restrictions Tony was trying to place on him out of misplaced concern.

It all came to a head the next morning.

He'd been lying half on and half off the sofa in the well-lit sitting room, sketching, until he was startled out of his focus by a heavy blanket landing over his legs. Looking up and setting aside his sketchbook and pencils, he made an irritated noise before he grabbed Tony by his shirtfront, pulling him down until he was bent almost double to make his point. "Tony, I appreciate the thought, you know I do, but I need you to stop worrying."

"But Steve--"

"No." Steve cut him off and kissed him, pushing the boundaries between intensity and harshness as his teeth caught on Tony's upper lip. "Stop it. I'm _fine_."

"You weren't, a week ago," was the grumbled reply when the kiss broke.

Steve rolled his eyes and pulled. Tony, unprepared for the move, flailed and landed on Steve's torso with a surprised grunt. Tony immediately pushed himself up, on his elbows, struggling a bit when one slipped down between the sofa cushions.

Steve pulled him resolutely back down again. "Stop that. I'm not breakable."

With a sigh, Tony finally relaxed against him. "Easy for you to say. You have no idea what you looked like when Natasha finally got you out of there."

"Maybe not, but I know that I feel back to normal, now," Steve shot back.

He should probably have expected the arms that wormed their way between his back and the cushions and held on tightly. Steve knew, too, that since he'd all but demanded the contact, Tony was going to take as much advantage of it as circumstances would allow.

He had no real problem with that. He'd _missed_ having Tony touch him without being tentative, or second guessing everything.

"I missed it, too."

"Didn't intend to say that out loud."

"I know. Shut up and let me enjoy this."

The room was silent for a few minutes. For his part, Steve allowed himself to relax back into the sofa cushions and let his hands wander over the planes of Tony's back and shoulders, working out the knots he found and enjoying the way Tony went boneless under his touch.

"If you're trying to put me to sleep," Tony eventually mumbled, voice muffled by Steve's shirt, "it's working."

Steve couldn't help the amused huff that escaped him. "Good. You need to rest, too. Did you even sleep while I was gone?"

"Couldn't."

The answer, expected though it was, still sent a pang of guilt through Steve and he renewed his efforts to reduce Tony to putty. "Then sleep. I'm not going anywhere." Tony tried to say something to that, but it was pretty much unintelligible, so Steve ignored it and added, "I'll wake you for dinner."

Under a minute later, Tony was deeply asleep. Steve stared down at him, a feeling of warm amusement and contentment rising in his chest and making his arms tighten around Tony protectively. If they weren't so thoroughly entangled in the war effort and Fury's combined assistance and machinations, it would have been a moment completely free of worries. As it was, it was almost enough to make him wish he could just grab Tony and run away from it all.

But he knew neither of them would be happy with that state of affairs. Tony needed to feel wanted, that was true, and he did. Steve knew he did. But he also needed something to keep him occupied. And so did he, really, Steve reflected, keeping the wistful sigh to himself.

In another lifetime perhaps that might have worked. But they would also be different people, likely wouldn't have fit together as well as they did in this one.

Letting his hand trail down the knobs of Tony's spine, though, he couldn't find it in himself to regret that. They had their problems, but it was worth it. _Tony_ was worth it.

He couldn't imagine his life without Tony. Or Pepper or Jarvis. Not anymore. Bucky would say he was turning into the biggest sap.

Closing his eyes and forcing his mind clear, he felt the residual tension drain out of his muscles. Now that Tony was _finally_ back where he belonged, the world was more or less back to rights again, as far as he was concerned. Tony probably felt the same.

He never realized it when he drifted off. Waking was a little bit awkward, though. Somehow, Tony had shifted in his sleep, sliding down until he was in just the right position for his head to rest on Steve’s broad chest. Unfortunately, that also meant his breathing alternately put pressure on and release a very sensitive part of Steve.

Steve held out as long as he could, before giving in and opening his eyes. That was a mistake, and he knew it as soon as he caught sight of Tony, utterly relaxed and peaceful. And here he was, unable to ignore the demands of his libido.

Tony muttered something unintelligible, and wormed a hand under Steve's hip. It made Steve squirm, his pants feeling suddenly very tight and restrictive. A glance at the clock revealed that they had just over an hour before dinner. _Thank goodness. I don't think I'd survive dinner in this state._

The thought made him wince. Pepper wouldn't let him live it down. Nor would Tony. If for very different reasons.

But that wouldn't be a problem. There was time to spare to deal with this little issue, and Steve knew exactly how he'd prefer to do that.

He reached down with one hand, running it through Tony's hair, already so mussed that a few finger trails wouldn't make a bit of difference. Tony made a pleased sound and turned into the caress, still asleep enough not to respond actively, but enjoying the touch all the same.

Keeping up the touches, he waited for Tony to reconnect with reality, watching him and trying not to laugh too obviously. It was cute. The gradual change in Tony’s breathing as he woke was another tease, though, shifting in rhythm and intensity.

A few moments later, his eyes still closed, Tony grumbled, "wipe that smirk off your face. You're entirely too pleased with yourself. Don't think I don't know what you're after."

Steve laughed, pulling his hand out of Tony’s hair and making Tony’s eyes slit open. "And I suppose you're not interested?"

Grabbing onto Steve's shoulder to pull himself upward, aligning their hips, Tony gave him a long level look. "Rogers, I really thought you were smarter than that."

Tony wasn't hard yet, but the interest was there.

"Mm, well, I am a strategist." Steve couldn't help himself, the joke was just hanging there, waiting to be used.

"Well," Tony quipped with a put upon expression, "strategize this."

He leaned down, his elbows slipping between Steve's arms and his torso on either side, and kissed him deeply.

Taking the opening, Steve put his hands on Tony's hips, untucking his off-white shirt tails, then sliding his palms up along Tony's flanks and carefully, meticulously, reexploring the muscled planes of Tony's back, reveling in the sensation of warm smooth skin and strength. Tony might be tall and wiry, but he could hold his own in any fight. Had to be able to, to use the armour.

Tony sighed into the kiss, and did his best to drive Steve crazy with nothing but lips and teeth and tongue.

Unsure whether that was the best or worst thing possible, Steve had to admit that it was working.

He let his head fall back onto the armrest of the sofa, breaking the kiss. Tony simply ducked his head slightly and began sucking a bruise into the skin just behind the hinge of Steve's jaw. It made him jerk, jostling Tony, who smirked and kept up his tease. "Tony," his voice cracked and broke. Swallowing, Steve tried again. "Tony, more. I want more."

With a chuckle, Tony pushed himself up until he was sitting straddling Steve's hips. "You're going to have to be more specific, darling."

Steve growled low in his throat, getting a very satisfying shiver out of his lover, and threaded one of his hands back into Tony's hair, catching and holding his eyes as he replied. "I don't care which way you want it, but one of us is getting fucked."

It wasn't even that dirty of a thing to say, and it had taken months for him to get comfortable enough to say even that much, but Tony _responded_. His eyes fell closed and he moaned. "Jesus, Steve."

"Well?"

He was getting impatient, and knew Tony probably was, too. 

Then Tony was catching his hands and pinning them over his head and Steve raised an eyebrow at him.

"You're still injured. Stay put."

Steve rolled his eyes. He was fine, and Tony knew it.

"No, don't argue, Steve. You said you didn't care, so we're doing this my way." Tony preempted the argument. "Clear?"

"Then get on with it," Steve returned, bucking upwards just enough to make his point without spilling Tony off the sofa.

Tony stood, giving him a look. "Stay there. We're not doing this without supplies."

Silently, without breaking eye contact, Steve pointedly reached down to undo the button and fly of his pants, reaching in to palm himself. The relief of the pressure was almost as sweet as the feeling of his hand, and it was enough to pull a soft groan out of him. He saw Tony swallow hard and stare hungrily, watching as he touched himself, and Steve would have sworn the temperature in the room rose several degrees.

The moment shattered when Tony abruptly turned and began rummaging through one of the drawers in the desk under the windows on the far side of the room, muttering curses under his breath. At least he didn't have to go far.

So much the better. Steve was in no mood to wait.

As he finished the thought, Tony straightened with a vaguely triumphant noise holding the objects he'd been searching for. Tony -- there was really no other word for it -- stalked back over to the sofa, his gait reminding Steve of a large cat on the hunt.

He leaned back down over Steve and gently but insistently removed the hand Steve still had down his pants, settling back in the position he'd been in a minute ago. "Now," he smirked, "where were we?"

Steve drew breath to reply, and was cut off with a hungry kiss, the words getting lost in Tony's mouth. "Mmph," was the best he managed, and Tony chuckled into the kiss.

"No, darling, this is my show, remember?" He trailed his fingertips down the length of Steve's arms to his wrists, then pulled both Steve's hands up to pin them beside his head. "These stay here. Understand?" He punctuated the words by setting his teeth in the muscle between Steve's neck and shoulder, making him buck upward again, instinct warring with -- and winning against -- his conscious attempts not to throw Tony to the floor accidentally. It was only just enough pressure to make him understand that Tony was serious, not enough to hurt or even bruise, but it was electric. 

Once they were settled again, Steve acquiesced with a nod, not totally certain where this was going, but curious.

"Talk to me, darling. I need to hear you say it."

"Yeah," Steve nodded a second time, even as he tried to protest. "Okay. But--"

Tony shook his head. "If you touch me like you usually do, this will be over long before either of us wants it to be."

"Fine, but stop teasing."

"Impatient, are you?"

Giving in, knowing that Tony would insist on his instructions being followed, Steve buried his hands in his own hair, lacing the fingers together behind his head. He wouldn't be able to keep them there, otherwise.

Tony noticed, and rewarded him by peeling his pants and underthings off, teasing lightly at the revealed flesh with his fingertips as he went. It fell somewhere between a tickle and a caress, and made Steve squirm. He whined at his lover when Tony made no move to continue for a few long moments, seemingly content to just stare at him. "Come on," Steve tried to convince him to _do something_ , "or I won't be able to hold myself back."

Tony smirked at him and slicked up his fingers. "Then you won't get what you want, though."

All it took was a glare and a low growl of, "Tony," to get him moving. _Finally._

Reaching back, Tony hastily prepared himself, slowing down when the look Steve gave him edged over from desire to impatience. "Steve," he breathed out, "staring at me like that isn't helping me make this last."

"Don't care," he replied, hands clenching in his hair in a vain attempt to distract himself, knowing the building tension was seeping into his muscles, winding him tight and--

A hand wrapped around him, making him twitch and buck. "Tony!"

His lover laughed at him, slightly breathless. "And I thought you were on a hair trigger the first time we did this. Rein it in a bit, hm?"

"Easy for you to say," Steve glared at him, "you get to touch."

He jerked again when Tony deftly slid a skin on him, and then there was a hand resting on the front of his left shoulder for balance as Tony lined himself up. Their eyes met, and the moment stretched until Tony incrementally slowly eased his hips down.

The eye contact only made it more intense, and Steve shuddered when Tony finally bottomed out, his eyes falling shut as he gasped for air. "Tony!"

Neither of them moved, adjusting. Steve knew better than to rush this part, meantime, but that didn't make it any easier. And Tony was enjoying winding him up. That was obvious. For all that he hadn't believed it at first, the thing that Tony got off on the most was watching him enjoy himself. And the knowledge made Steve more inclined to let it show.

He forced some of the tension back out of his muscles, let his eyes fall closed and his head fall back, pillowed on his hands. Felt, and reveled in, the weight of Tony's eyes on him. They both still had their shirts on, and for the first time that afternoon Steve wished he could change that.

But he didn't get a chance to verbalize the wish, because that was the moment Tony chose to start moving, and the world fell away, reality narrowing down to sensation and want.

It didn't -- couldn't -- last long. It seemed like less than a minute later, Tony was coming with a low moan and pushing him over the knife edge he'd been walking. His hands, somehow still behind his head, clenched in his hair, the slight sting only adding to the wave of emotion and sensation threatening to pull him under.

Tony was fighting not to let himself slump down, and that reminded Steve that he could probably use his hands again without a lecture. "Tony?"

His lover grumbled something at him about sleep. Steve snickered. "Come on, Tony, we need to clean up."

"Ugh, fine. But I'm claiming the shower."

"Do you really think you'll win that one," Steve knew his tone was enough to convey his skepticism.

Putting one arm over the sofa's backrest and leaning on it in a way that threw his muscled abdominals into distracting relief, Tony smirked. "You're not the only one who knows strategy."

And Steve really couldn't let that one pass unremarked. He twisted from the waist, half sitting up to do it, and reached down to the floor, conveniently ignoring the fact that Tony had yet to disengage from him, to pick up both pairs of their pants. Felt the drag against over-sensitive flesh as the motion pulled him halfway out, and then back in just enough to feel good when he relaxed back onto the sofa. Tony drew in a hissing breath and shifted his hips. "Oooh, no. No, no, no. You're not playing that game, Rogers."

"Who said it was a game?"

Tony swatted at him, albeit somewhat halfheartedly. "At least give me enough time to recover."

Pulling out and a bit gingerly peeling off the skin despite the awkward angle, Steve gave Tony a long level look. "Share that shower?"

–------------------------

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [15 Minutes, 35 Days (The Off-Piste in Rjukan Remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5994667) by [Veldeia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Veldeia/pseuds/Veldeia)




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